Here Kitty, Kitty
by duffshel
Summary: Sometime things thought always sweet and kind can be your worst nightmare. Happy Halloween!


**Summary: **Sometime things thought always sweet and kind can be your worst nightmare.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: Here Kitty, Kitty**

**By: duffshel**

The air was stuffy and thick. It seemed to skin into every pore of the skin, worming its way through the different levels. One had to move through it almost like they were walking though steam. Nicholas Stokes didn't want to be here. This was something he never thought he would ever have to be a part of. But his pride and stubbornness wouldn't let him turn tail and run. Demons were only as scary as a person made them out to be.

He walked slowly down the dark hallway. The floor boards creaked under his feet with each step he took. Small breezes of wind wisped by his ears, sending chills down his spine. Other people were in the house, but from this spot, he might as well be completely alone.

The lace and flowers filled the tables that lined the walls. It was the perfect home for the perfect elderly lady. No one would ever suspect. No one would ever question. Nick shivered again. His heart was in his throat. He never wanted to reach the kitchen. It was something he didn't want, _need_ to see.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was cold and dark. Tiny hand pushed at the plastic lining of the door. Pain radiated from the back of the head where the blow had fallen. There was one way out. It was locked on the outside. Tears ran nonstop. Sobs echoed through tiny ear drums. The child screamed.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

There were few trees on the property. Grass was brown and found only in a few patches. The house wasn't large for that area of Henderson, but it was almost too big for the tiny woman that lived there. She moved slow, but with purpose. No one else lived there. She had only her cats.

The rocking chair on the porch creaked under her weight as she rocked it back and forth. She was waiting. Mr. Tibbles jingled as he pushed open the screen door and walked slowly outside. His belly almost reached the ground. He was a beautiful orange Tabby cat with the perfect proportion of strips around his round body.

A grace was present within that overweight cat that she envied. Her grace had been lost, taken away by time. But now time would be making it up to her. There was a jingle of bells coming from down the street.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick groaned when he heard the annoying ringing of that damn cell phone. He had just fallen asleep only an hour earlier. It was supposed to be his day off, finally, after a solid ten. A numb hand flopped out from under the covers onto the table top. The phone was not an easy catch for a man pulled from his sleep. But Nick was finally able to snatch up his prey.

"Wha!"

It was slurred and deep, but the person on the other line didn't need to understand the conversation to know that the man was on the other end, "Nick, its Jim. I need you to come over here."

"Over where? I'm off today, man."

"Not anymore. Grissom couldn't give me anyone else. And I need a CSI for this one, for sure."

Nick moaned as a response and listened to the rambling of the address and directions. He knew of the area where the house was, but never visited it before. There never was a need. Brass said his good bye and hung up in Nick's ear. The Texan growled at the tiny machine.

His body protested the movement upwards as he shoved his arms under him. Sturdy legs didn't agree with any movement and weighed about the same as a red cedar log might. Nick shuffled slowly into his bathroom. Some cold water might do the trick.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Mr. Tibbles lay down on his left side, body in the sun. He enjoyed sunbathing on days like these. His fur would always be warm to the touch when she would run her hands through it. But the cat would never let her touch him when he was in the act. It was considered a taboo for the tiny beast.

The bells were getting closer now. She could see the figure enlarging as the amount of cement was decreased. Her tight lips pulled even tighter as the corners attempted to form a smile. It was an unusual look on her face. Not many people could say they had ever seen a smile on her face before.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Breath was quickening. Small hands pushed at the door again and again. The bones were digging into muscles and causing pain, but it was nothing to the fear. Panic was eating into bone marrow. Blood was chilled to the point of freezing. What once were tears now was ice, clinging to red, raw flesh. Screams did nothing, but echo back. The closed off that hell even more.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick slowed his walk to almost a march, a death march. The scent of potpourri got stronger in this part of the house. It was meant to cover something up, but it didn't seem right. Brass had said she had no family around and no one ever came to visit. Maybe she had a sensitive nose.

There was a swinging wooden door blocking his view from the inner kitchen. He could almost see it. Nick only hoped it looked nothing like the kitchen he remembered from his grandmother's house. If it did, he would never be able to go back.

His right hand went out and pushed the barrier out of the way. The smell was no longer flowers and herbs. It was something that crept into his dreams at night. Followed his around like a dog. It was the smell of death, young at that.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He couldn't' find his damn keys. They had been on his counter when he had last looked. Something was fucked up. Nick scratched his head and looked at the spot he knew his keys were supposed to be in. The cold water must have wrecked his eyes or something.

Brass was going to kill him!

Nick began tearing around his townhouse. His damn truck wouldn't start without that damn little piece of metal. Pillows flew through the air and he heard something thud to the ground. Shrugging, Nick ripped through his living room like a person possessed. If he could have, he would have turned the couch over.

It was when he was about to jolt to the bedroom that his foot caught up on something. He threw his arms out in front of him to stop the fall, but only managed to stop from landing on his face. Knee bones screamed at the abuse. The palms of his hands felt like they were on fire. He looked down at his shoed foot. His keys shined up at him.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

She held the change in her hand. It was warmed from the heat of the flesh. But it wouldn't matter to the collector. It would be thrown in that brown bag and chilled off again. It was a cycle that the coins had to endure. They had no choice in this life given to them.

The cat yowled at her feet. A bang sounded behind her again. This time is was gray stealth that walked out onto the wooden porch. Mr. Bubbles was her newer cat. Found in the heat of day in the grocery store parking lot. She never asked, looked for an owner. He was hers.

Mr. Bubbles was smaller, but no less a cat that Mr. Tibbles. He was able to move the other feline about an inch when he butted his head against the orange shoulder. They purred together, rested together. They were family. Her family.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was too cold. Breath was hard to draw in. Living was not. Age beyond comprehension settled on the young shoulder. She was too young to die.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The paper girl pulled up on her pink bike. It was time to collect the payment for the daily newspaper. She had this route for only a few weeks. It led to a pride that a girl of eleven rarely would know. Her parents were proud to learn that she had gotten a job at her age. And a paper route was always a good one for young kids.

She was excited to go to the house. The cats were friendly and always licked her fingers. Never would she have a cat, let alone a pet in her house. The old lady never said she couldn't pet them. She always sat in her chair and watched as the minutes would tick away.

As always, the lady was waiting for her. She could see movement of the wrinkled hand and knew it was her collection. The paper felt heavy in her hand as she pulled it out to hand over. Never a smile. Never an old lady laugh. It wasn't something she ever thought about. But there was always that wave of beckoning.

"Come, see the kitties."

Eager feet went up the stairs. The cats spooked and ran into the house. She didn't think twice before running in after them. This was not somewhere new to her. Bubbles and Tibbles ran towards the kitchen. She followed. This would be like the boy who came by the other day about collecting money for his baseball team.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was painted in yellow. Nick breathed deep in the doorway before he stepped into the room. Everything was some shade of yellow of white. Even the fridge and oven were a pale yellow. But it was the doorway that Brass was standing at that was his destination.

The tough cop had a deep look on his face. It was one Nick saw only on a few occasions. They were never good times. Nick always had nightmares after those moments. He didn't want to look. Now he wanted to put his tail between his legs and run, whimpering from the house.

Brass gave him a look before stepping back, out of the way. Nick gathered up his resolve and took a few steps closer. The smell got stronger. He held the bile down. It was not going to win this battle. A few more steps. A turn of the head. The bile won this round as it rushed up his throat.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Breath stopped. The pain of the old bones digging into her legs was gone. The dried blood was no longer taunting. She went to the big light she remembered her mother talking about. There was no fear anymore. It was all gone. No cats could follow her any longer.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Mr. Bubbles sat on the counter, a smile on his little whiskers. His gray fur seemed to shimmer in the light. She smiled and patted him on his head. Mr. Tibbles meowed his jealousy, but didn't move from his stop by the table. He never moved at these points in time.

She reached a withered hand into the drawer under the sink. The knife was stainless steel and felt heavy in her hand. It always did. The cats began to get more vocal as she moved to the key hanging on the wall by the light switch. She could hear their tiny feet pattering around on the linoleum. It made her smile.

The key was light in her hand, so unlike the knife. The balance of her upper body was off balance due to the two objects. It was time to make use of them both and make everything right again. The clock said it had been fifteen hours. That was more than enough time. She walked to the locked door across the room. The cats almost were bouncing from joy.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick felt like he weighed a million tons as he sat across from the woman. The table didn't feel like it was enough protection from her. He wanted his gun in his hand now. She simply was smirking at him. It made him want to squirm and shake. The bile was back.

Her hands were relaxed in her lap. There were no worries in her eyes. This was not something that was going to bother her. Young men like this one didn't scare her.

"Why did you do it?"

The question was quiet, thick with a Texan accent. Nick couldn't look up at her face any longer as he asked it. He wanted to know how it was possible. How a person could do that without thinking anything was wrong. It just was not something a normal person did.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?"

It was sweet and elderly. She could have been that little lady down that road that invited him in for tea, "How could you do that to those kids? Why would you put them in the extra fridge in the closet?"

She straightened out her crippled body and looked directly towards the face of the younger man in front of her. The fate of her cats had already been told to her. Someone told her they found something wrong with the contents of their stomachs. But she knew different. It wasn't wrong.

"My cats were hungry. They need to eat as well."

It felt like a blow. Nick was silent. She didn't say another word. The elderly lady smiled sweetly at the young man in front of her. The young man starred down at his fists, white. A cat could be heard meowing from outside the window.

**The End**

**Author's Note: **So yeah, that was new for me. I was asked by a friend to write up something short and quick, but creepy. I don't know how many people will think so, but I know it made me shiver. But I thought I would post it up for all of you as a Halloween present. Let me know what you think! It was a new way of working with a story for me and I am curious to know what people think about it. Thanks for reading and have a safe and terrible horrifying Halloween! Trick 'O Treat!


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